Microscope
by Squid
Summary: Clover. Vital stains to see things that seem very, very small. [Gingetsu/Lan]
1. Toluidine Blue

I. Toluidine Blue  
  
Gingetsu came home one day to find that Lan had managed to get a light microscope delivered and set up without his knowledge. He thought nothing of it and Lan did not mention it either, even in passing.  
  
It was the third year. Lan had stopped growing halfway through the second.  
  
His limbs were gangly and chaotic, like a forced weed. In spite of this, Lan retained his strange grace and rarely showed the awkwardness that came with adolescence or adulthood.  
  
Perhaps he had never learned to be gauche.  
  
The microscope sat on Lan's table, in his room. Gingetsu never saw it up close. He had seen the dyes Lan used, arranged neatly in small glass phials, and labelled with slips of white sticky paper. He did not try to make out the scrawled black marks, in Lan's spidery handwriting.  
  
He had gotten up on a number of occasions to find Lan still awake, crouched over the microscope, his table strewn with glass droppers leaking fluid in dark blue, green, red, yellow.  
  
It's late, Gingetsu would say.  
  
Lan would agree with a distracted nod, trying to clean up the detritus of stain blotches and unidentifiable pieces of organic material that lay all over his workbench, bits and pieces that he had managed to salvage from somewhere.  
  
"Just this one last slide."  
  
"If that's what you want to do."  
  
And Gingetsu would go back to bed, knowing he had to be up again in an hour anyway. 


	2. Bismarck Brown

II. Bismarck Brown  
  
Lan tried sprouting beans on the windowsill, in damp cotton wool.  
  
The bean seedlings weakened and died a day after they sprouted, shrivelling up and turning brown from the shoot and root tips.  
  
Gingetsu was not at home at the time. He was on an assignment that required him to stay at the office for a few days.  
  
Kazuhiko dropped by regularly after work; most probably because Gingetsu had asked him to, but he mentioned that being at home alone was boring him to death.  
  
"Anyway," Kazuhiko said, "it's not as quiet here."  
  
Lan genuinely appreciated Kazuhiko's company. It gave him something to do.  
  
He had tried sprouting the beans again, but they died just the same. Kazuhiko flicked at the limp little corpses and muttered something apologetic. Lan left the sprouts in the room and smiled to reassure him that it was okay.  
  
"Must be something in the air." Kazuhiko sniffed suspiciously.  
  
He went back into the kitchen and began to cook dinner. Gingetsu would be coming home in the evening. Kazuhiko must have seen his microscope in his room while Lan was cooking because he came into the kitchen and asked him about it.  
  
"It's a hobby that I picked up." Lan said.  
  
"Strange hobby," Kazuhiko replied, stealing a slice of tomato. "What's so interesting about a bunch of cells?"  
  
"They're alive. Don't steal the tomatoes, Kazuhiko."  
  
He did try to steal more vegetables, and received a tap on his knuckles with a metal spoon for his efforts. He made a big show of how it hurt, and even Lan had to laugh when Kazuhiko mock-cowered before him, exclaiming that it was a lethal weapon.  
  
Gingetsu either left him in peace in the kitchen, or helped by doing everything Lan needed help with, instead of stealing vegetables and asking questions.  
  
Lan missed the easy comfort of working with Gingetsu.  
  
He guessed Kazuhiko understood that he was at best a substitute, a playmate that Gingetsu provided for him when he could not be there in person. 


	3. Methyl Violet

III. Methyl Violet  
  
There was a bad bruise that discoloured Gingetsu's left cheek. Kazuhiko mentioned it over dinner.  
  
"I bruise easily." Gingetsu replied, knife slicing easily through fish.  
  
"It shows more on light skin." Lan added.  
  
"That's the reason you never take off your visor?" Kazuhiko asked, "So no one can see the bags under your eyes?"  
  
"Excuse me; I think the pie is just about ready." Lan said, rising.  
  
At the mention of pie, Kazuhiko squawked and wanted to know what kind. So Lan told him (it was cherry) and took it out from the oven to cool. He heard the scrape of chair as Kazuhiko leaned over to say something to Gingetsu.  
  
Lan put the kettle on.  
  
"You should get him some new shoes," he heard Kazuhiko say. "The old ones are too small."  
  
"He doesn't want them." Gingetsu replied.  
  
"Is Earl Gray fine?" He called out from the kitchen.  
  
There were two separate sounds of agreement. Gingetsu came into the kitchen, and handed him the used plates. Lan soaped the dishes; Gingetsu rinsed them and set them on a rack to dry.  
  
"You heard?" Gingetsu asked.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You still don't want the shoes?"  
  
"No." Lan said. "I won't wear them long enough."  
  
Gingetsu said nothing. Lan wiped his hands, and made tea. Gingetsu took it out, while Lan cut three slices of pie. Kazuhiko had a sweet tooth, and Lan knew that well.  
  
He was partial to sweet things, himself.  
  
Gingetsu did not eat much of his pie. He stopped after two bites, the cherries spilling purple and sticky out of the crust and onto the plate, dislodged by his fork.  
  
Lan caught him rubbing absently at the bruise on his face once or twice. The chewing must have aggravated the aching in his jaw.  
  
"Quite a bruise you've got there, Gingetsu. Who gave it to you?" Kazuhiko asked, conversationally, once he had polished off his own slice.  
  
He had noticed, as well.  
  
"No one important."  
  
"Must have been pretty good to get you there."  
  
"Perhaps."  
  
Kazuhiko must have heard Gingetsu's reticence in his reply, and he left soon after, citing work tomorrow as an excuse. Neither of them attempted to keep him from leaving. 


	4. Aniline Yellow

IV. Aniline Yellow  
  
Lan began to take naps in the afternoon.  
  
If Gingetsu noticed that Lan tired more easily than before, he never said anything about it. Furthermore, he was usually at work anyway.  
  
But now he worked nights less often. That was how Lan knew he knew. Gingetsu would come home by late evening, and they would have dinner together.  
  
Usually, Gingetsu would have paperwork he needed to read or approve, so he'd do it in the living room, spreadsheets in neat piles all over the coffee table, arranged by type and urgency.  
  
Lan would sit opposite him, sitting across his armchair (he had begun to think of it as his), with his back propped against one of the overstuffed arms, his knees resting on the other.  
  
His shoes dangled from his feet as he tinkered with mechanical components, or listened to music from his earphones. Sometimes he hummed along, particularly if the song was one of his favourites, but he always tried to do it softly so as not to disturb Gingetsu.  
  
Today he was reading. Gingetsu had bought a few books on microscopy and slide preparation for him, even though Lan had not asked for them. Gingetsu had passed them to him in a brown paper bag saying, "I thought these might come in useful."  
  
Lan had thanked him, and resisted the urge to rip off the plastic wrapping covering the books until after dinner.  
  
The other two books still lay inside the by-now slightly crumpled paper bag, propped next to the armchair. Lan shifted, and continued reading. He brought the book closer, then farther, and squinted at the tiny caption beneath a photograph of a slide of thyroid cells.  
  
"I think I need glasses." He said, when he noticed Gingetsu looking at him. "I can't see very well now."  
  
There was a pause.  
  
"I'll bring someone home to fit you with a pair tomorrow."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
There was a rustling of paper. Gingetsu set a file down, and picked up another, a black one. Lan went back to his reading.  
  
It was some time later when Lan stopped reading, and got out of the chair. Gingetsu was still working, and he tried to be quiet, even though his back had gone numb. He took his books to his room, and came out to ask if Gingetsu wanted anything.  
  
"No." Gingetsu answered, a little distracted by what he was reading. "I'm fine."  
  
Lan knew better than to disturb him further. He took the books out of the bag, and placed them carefully in his drawer, before he went to bed.  
  
Even though he had closed the door, there was light seeping in through the edges from the living room, a pale yellow that illuminated narrow vertical slices of his bed.  
  
The light was still on when he fell asleep.  
  
Lan did not notice when it went off, nor did he hear Gingetsu when he opened the door a bit to check on him. 


	5. Congo Red

V. Congo Red  
  
Gingetsu had never told him not to do anything before.  
  
"You should drink less coffee." He said in the morning, as Lan trooped out of the kitchen carrying two mugs of coffee.  
  
Lan had been mildly surprised. He poured away the coffee and drank cranberry juice instead, and because Gingetsu was watching, he ate a slice of wheat toast. And yoghurt with chopped fruit.  
  
Gingetsu did not leave the house until Lan had finished his yoghurt.  
  
When the door closed, Lan laughed softly to himself. He pushed up his glasses, which were falling off his nose, and began to clear the breakfast things.  
  
It suddenly seemed a little too quiet, so he switched on the music, and the sound travelled from the living room to the kitchen, where he was washing the dishes.  
  
Lan had tried composing music of his own. He wasn't entirely satisfied with a part of it, and replayed the tune over and over again while he tweaked at it.  
  
He ran clean water over the dishes, paused the music, rewinded a few bars, and played it again. There was still something not quite right about it.  
  
He placed the dishes and cutlery on the rack, and wiped his hands. He changed the tune a bit, but it sounded worse. He switched it off, and looked out of the window.  
  
The sky was tinged red. Lan wondered if it was going to rain later that afternoon. He wondered whether Gingetsu had gotten to work yet.  
  
His slides were waiting.  
  
Lan had pricked his finger with a needle earlier in the morning, and smeared blood on three separate slides, allowing them to dry while they had breakfast, before Gingetsu left for work.  
  
They were dry when he came back, and he dipped them in a stain he had prepared, based on the list he had found in one of the books Gingetsu had given him. After half a minute, he took them out and immersed them in a dish of deionised water for another half a minute.  
  
He slipped the coverslips on, and they were ready.  
  
Lan had to report to the Wizards regularly. He had done that yesterday night, plugging into Gingetsu's connection as usual.  
  
They told him that A asked to talk to him.  
  
"Do you wish to speak to him, Lan?"  
  
He wanted to. But he was afraid. So he refused.  
  
The Wizards never granted Clover wishes.  
  
Not unless it was the last thing they could do for them.  
  
Lan put a slide under the microscope. 


	6. Janus Green

VI. Janus Green  
  
Gingetsu was home unusually early today. It was only late afternoon. The sky was gray. It had rained a few hours before, and the streets were full of puddles.  
  
Lan had been asleep when he got home, curled up on the sofa, one of his microscopy books lying open on the coffee table, his glasses atop the glossy pages.  
  
Gingetsu sat next to him, removed Lan's glasses and set them on the table. He picked up the book, and started looking through it, waiting for him to wake up.  
  
When Lan did, he smiled when he saw Gingetsu.  
  
"You're home early."  
  
"There was nothing to do at work."  
  
Gingetsu was reading the page Lan had stopped at.  
  
"I looked at my blood today."  
  
Gingetsu's hands stilled. They tensed, a bit, around the sides of the book.  
  
"What did you see?"  
  
"There's nothing wrong with my blood, Gingetsu."  
  
Gingetsu set the book down on the table.  
  
"Do you want anything?" He asked. Lan sat up.  
  
"Nothing, really. Nothing at all."  
  
Gingetsu said nothing for a moment.  
  
Lan looked into his eyes, through the visor, and he saw they were exactly the same.  
  
When Gingetsu spoke, he said, "You can lie down if you want."  
  
Lan did, his head on Gingetsu's lap. He closed his eyes, and felt Gingetsu put a hand on his shoulder, the palm the one A had carved a new destiny into. 


End file.
